The Knitter.

Back to one of my favourite topics for painting. have painted a few poppies this summer and I am sure this is not my best attempt but I do enjoy trying to capture their delicate beauty.

I am sharing some of the time on this holiday with two very good friends. The lady of this couple has been known from time to time for giving me a hard time. Usually fast and witty comments that put me in my place. My family are amazed that I take it with a smile.  I do so because she is a friend and friends are to be cherished.

When we have been out walking she gets her chores for the day out of the way and settles down to knit for a bit. She usually has a project on the go and a great deal of her knitting is later sold for charity, and for the families who have been bereaved by the death of a newborn child. So a friend with a heart. 

As I watched her knit the other day I remembered the takeoff another lady that had spent a bit of time knitting.

Let me share it.

There was once a man and woman who had been married for more than 60 years. They had shared everything. They had talked about everything. 

They had kept no secrets from each other except that the little old woman had a shoe box in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to open or ask her about.

For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day the little old woman got very sick and the doctor said she would not recover. In trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man took down the shoe box and took it to his wife's bedside. 

She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box. When he opened it, he found two crocheted doilies and a stack of money totalling £6000 . 

He asked her about the contents. 

"When we were to be married," she said, "My grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doily." 

The little old man was so moved, he had to fight back tears. Only two precious doilies were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness. 

"Honey," he said, "that explains the doilies, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?" 

"Oh," she said, "that's the money I made from selling the doilies."

I hope I never find a box with doilies and money it might be a salutary lesson. Thank goodness I have not seen my friend knitting doilies. 

I am sure my wife is not hiding a box of doilies I would have found it because it would be a very big box.

Have a wonderful day, no arguments.